he drops the bamboo pole
deeper and deeper until he hits sand
then he quickly works his way up the pole:
three thrusts, each one lurching the boat
forward, breaking the bow against
he dips, turns, waves,
climbs his bamboo ladder,
the dog in the bow yapping
i smile and wave back,
for a moment almost believing
that if i pushed my pole down
i would hit seabed,
i would move this vessel forward.
from the March 2007 issue of High Altitude Poetry
read more of my poems from HAP here.